


Descent

by aries_taurus



Series: Indulgence [4]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Addiction, Bingeing, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Emetophilia, Gen, Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/pseuds/aries_taurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So it’s fine because you’re functional, is that it? Because; a functioning alcoholic is still an alcoholic. Still an addict”</p><p>Danny finds out. A confrontation ensues.</p><p>Final part of the Indulgence series. FINALLY</p>
            </blockquote>





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This took me forever to finish!!! But it's done. 
> 
> I first wrote this series because someone asked for a fic about Steve with Bulimia and then it bled into Alex O'Loughlin's struggle with prescription meds and so I made the timing kind of fit. I fudged the time Steve was away at the end of S3 but I think it works.
> 
> Kudos to Alex for facing his issue and conquering it and even more so doing so in public. That takes major courage and guts. So this is a tribute to all those who struggle with addiction and face it. 
> 
> This is a story and the recovery is... somewhat easy. I know that's not the way it is in RL, and I want those of you out there that are struggling to know I have a ton of respect for you and don't give up. 
> 
> Okay, enough yammmering. Here it is.
> 
> Oh! Suicide attempt, guys. If that's a trigger, please don't read, ok? 
> 
> I don't think this is OOC in the world I've created but I don't think it fits with show canon. 
> 
> Thanks
> 
> ***EDIT*** Forgot to say: this is set right after part I, Indulgence. 
> 
> Chronologically, it's Part II(Origin) Part III(Ontogeny), Part I (Indulgence) and Part IV (Descent), but that's just to situate you. Reading them in order of publication makes the most sense.

Part IV 

* * *

 

April 2013

 

As usual, Danny doesn’t knock. He’s just about to pour himself a cup of coffee when he hears the front door open and slam closed.

“Hey,” Danny calls out as he walks into the kitchen.

“Morning. I’m not even gonna mention the knocking.”

“So, how are you feeling this morning?”

Steve pauses, a flash of dread freezing him for a moment. He quashes it. It’s ridiculous. Danny doesn’t know anything and besides, he’s got a concrete excuse.

“Fine, why?” he asks, keeping his face carefully neutral.

“Came by last night. You were, uh… busy. Feeding the fishes you dinner.”

Sudden panic makes his heart pound. He takes a slow, even breath. There’s nothing written on his face. All he has to do is tell Danny he got food poisoning.

“Um yeah. I ah… Something I ate. Didn’t agree with me.”

“Some thing or some things?”

He faces Danny and cocks his head, painting his features in a puzzled expression. “I don’t follow. What are you talking about?”

“I saw the containers on the table. You eat the whole thing by yourself? The udon, the whatever it was from Rainbow, the malasadas, which you swore you don’t eat, the cocoa puffs… am I missing anything?”

“I-“

“Do me a favor, Steven. Don’t lie to me. You’re not good at it,” Danny cuts in.

“I got food poisoning. And I don’t see how this is any of your business. It’s not your concern.”

“No see, I disagree.”

He exhales through his nose, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s fine, Danny. I’m fine.”

“So it’s fine because you’re functional, is that it? Because; a functioning alcoholic is still an alcoholic. Still an addict”

Anger bubbles and he can’t quite contain it. “What the hell are you talking about? What is it that you think you know, exactly huh?”

“You wanna know?”

“Yeah, Danny, what do you think you know about me?”

“Okay. I think you’re bulimic.”

He lets the surprise show, eyebrows going high. A thousand retorts pile over each other in his head, about it being for young girls, denial, any number of things but what makes it out of his mouth is: “What? Based on the fact I had food poisoning last night?”

“Not food poisoning and not just last night. You went on a binge. And again, don’t lie to my face, Steven.”

He knows he should say something. Deflect. Defend himself. Only somehow, has no clue why, he’s frozen. “You’re delusional,” he finally manages tightly.

“You’ve done it about six times since I started to suspect. Probably more than that.”

“Get out,” he hisses. Fear and panic rise. He’s been caught and for the life of him, he can’t think, can’t figure out what to _do_.

“Steve-

“GET OUT!” he roars, pointing to the door. He ignores the way his hands are shaking and the harsh twist in his gut. Danny doesn’t know anything. It’s just a huge fishing expedition and he’s not going to fall for it. He willingly ignores the way he feels himself shaking.

“No.”

He sets his jaw, eyes full of fury, heart full of fear. “Danny,” he says warningly.

“Go ahead. Tell it to my face. Tell me you’re not doing this to yourself and I’ll leave. But don’t you dare lie to because you and I both know you can’t. You may be a master at the art of deception but you’re also honest with your friends. So, third time, don’t lie to me.”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

“I won’t think any less of you for, Steve. But… It’s self-destructive. You can’t keep doing this.”

He turns away, putting a hand on each side of the sink. He hates Danny right at this moment. Hates that he’s right, that he can’t lie to him. ‘You don’t know anything about me’ is what he wants to say.

“You don’t… know _anything_ about this,” is what he says.

“No? I know you’re a control freak with an insane exercise regimen, that you will eat noting sweet or high in fat. I know some days you don’t eat at all. I know on the nights we have a few beers, you run two extra miles the next day, if not more. I know you ate the whole birthday cake we got you last year and threw it up in the basement bathroom because Kanu, the maintenance guy, saw you. I know at least once a month, you disappear one night, especially if some personal crap happens, like the night your mother and Kono left. I know you ditched Catherine because she came to mine, and you called in sick the next day. Food poisoning. Again.”

“I got drunk. I had a hangover.”

“You’re _lying_. Badly I might add. So, let me continue. You showed up to my place twice last month, with puke on your breath, two hours late both times, after you were supposed to go home and change.”

He turns back to the sink, his grip on the counter so tight his arms are shaking. He doesn’t know what _do_!

“Danny, please,” he whispers.

“Listen. I know you think you have this under control but the thing is; you don’t. If you did, I wouldn’t know about it.”

“Shut up. You don’t know anything!” he screams. He wants to run but there’s nowhere to go. Anyone. Anyone else, anyone other than Danny and he’d be running, hitting them, making him swallow their words. He wouldn’t have to endure this, Danny flaying him alive for everyone to see how broken, how _hollow, how empty_ he is.

“I know you think it’s not a big deal but have you looked in the mirror? Huh? Can’t you see how much weight you’ve lost? How tired you look?”

“Danny please,” he begs, his voice breaking. “Just… Leave me alone, please,” he pleads.

“How many times do you think you can make yourself throw up before your body can’t take it, huh? How many miles can you run or swim on no fuel? Before your esophagus ruptures or your heart gives out and you die? Huh? Tell me, babe, how can you expect me to sit and watch while you kill yourself little by little, right in front of me?”

“Stop. Please, stop. Danny please don’t do this.” His voice trembles and to his complete horror, his eyes are filling with tears. He puts a hand to his chest, just below his throat. He can’t breathe. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He can lie just fine when he has to. His whole life has been about lies and deceit, about protecting himself but right at this moment, he can’t. It’s like all his defenses have vanished.

“How can you expect me to just walk away? What am I gonna tell Grace huh? That I let you die because of, of… some image thing? I’m your _friend_ Steve. I care about you and I just want to help. I can’t watch you self-destruct like this, not anymore. Babe, please, please, let me help? Please Steve. Let me help. I care about you,” he repeats. “I do not want to see you suffering. I want to help. I want to help you get better. Please.”

Each word Danny says is like an arrow to the heart. He turns to face Danny and he wants to scream, to yell at him to shut the fuck up but he can’t. Something’s wrong. With him.

He can’t take this anymore. He pushes off the counter and stalks out of the kitchen only to find his way blocked, Danny standing in his path.

He closes his eyes, fist tight. “Get out of my way.”

“Or what? You’re gonna punch me in the face for being right? For caring? For doing what you think you don’t deserve? Or just don’t have the right to? Sorry, no pal. I’m not moving.”

Steve can only stare, wide-eyed, mouth gaping like a landed fish as panic fills him. He’s been found out. Danny _knows_. He knows! He’ll lose everything, now. Everything he has, everything he is. They’ll take him away, lock him up, tie him down…

He doesn’t know what to _do_! He draws in a breath but it sticks in his chest, like he’s breathing through molasses. He gasps and suddenly, he can’t breathe. Blood rushes in his ears and his heart is thundering so hard in his chest he can feel it against his sternum. He can’t breathe. He has to get out of here. He needs air.

He turns but there’s nowhere to go, no air, no escape. He’s trapped trappped _TrappedTrappedTrappedTrapp-_

* * *

“Shh shhh, shhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re fine, you’re okay."

He comes back to himself slowly and the first thing that registers is the soft voice in his ear. After, it’s the wetness on his face, the sweat drying on his body, the ache in his muscles and the unpleasant nausea in his stomach. It’s wrong. It’s not the kind he craves, the one he needs to survive. This one feels like the all-consuming emptiness living inside him trying to gnaw its way out, trying to consume him, eat him alive.

“You back with me?”

He swallows and opens gummy eyes and he finds himself huddled on the floor, in the corner between the fridge and the sink, Danny wrapped around him, holding him together after he had a mother of a panic attack at being found out.

He should be ashamed, getting up, pretending he’s fine but for some reason, it feels like if Danny lets go, he’ll fracture and disintegrate into a million pieces to be sucked into the void he feels growing inside, a void he suddenly knows he can no longer fill no matter how much food he forces down his throat because now, they know, Danny knows how empty and hollow he is, how enormous the hole inside him is. It’s too huge and he suddenly realizes it’s never stopped growing, not since that first time after his mother’s funeral and it’s all been an illusion.

He gasps with shock when it dawns on him that Danny’s right, that he was never in control, that it was all a trick and that all this time, the black hole inside’s been consuming him, destroying him from within, that the pleasure the purging brought him is just the high from the drug making him come back for more, until he overdoses.

The realization spreads through him like poison and it’s too much to take. He can’t… process, can’t help the wail of agony that escapes him, can’t handle the pain of being such a failure, such an idiot, so, so stupid.

“Shh, Shhh, it’s okay. You’ll get through this. We’ll get you through this.”

He doesn’t believe that. There’s just nothing left now. He’s just a husk, an empty, useless, worthless shell. His hands ball into fists and tears flood his eyes and a sob tears from his throat as he crumples in on himself even more.

Danny’s arms tighten around him and all he can do is cry and cry, because nobody understands. Not even him and now he has nothing left.

“Then tell me, babe. Tell me. I’m listening.”

He must have said it out loud for Danny to ask but he can’t. He sobs and screams and cries because now he’s lost everything. There’s nothing left. Nothing.

“There’s nothing left,” he whimpers, pathetic, disgusted with himself for breaking down like this but… there truly is noting good left for him.

“Why do you say that, huh, babe? Why?”

“S’not about… how I look. It’s about… how.. it makes me… _feel_ …” he screams, shaking with a sorrow so deep he doesn’t know how he can ever recover from it and he suddenly very much wants to die. Right now because… he can’t go on feeling like this, because there is no other way, nothing to take away the pain. There’s just death.

He shoves Danny back and gets to his feet in a single move and he heads for the knife block on the counter and-

“NO STEVE NO!”

Danny barrels into him before he can reach the knives and they crash down against the counter hard. They tussle a bit until Danny trips him and they fall, the table shoved on its side by the sheer force of their combined weights. They struggle and wrestle on the floor but he’s got the advantage. He doesn’t care about hurting Danny. He won’t live to feel guilty about it, doesn’t want to, doesn’t care anymore. He’s too tired. It hurts too much and he can’t cope. Not with people knowing, and not without the only thing that takes away the pain. So he fights hard, knowing he’ll put Danny down only… Somehow he’s losing the fight, tiring faster than is normal for him and he doesn’t know how but Danny’s got him in a hold, facedown on the floor and he can’t get free.

He bucks and screams and rages but there’s nothing he can do but he keeps struggling.

“ENOUGH!” Danny bellows.

He keeps fighting.

“I AM _NOT_ GONNA LET YOU DO THIS. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR HEAD. NOW STOP IT!”

The harsh shout in his ear somehow breaks through and he goes limp.

“Okay, better. And for the record, you’re wrong. There are other ways to feel better and talking to your friends, to me, helps,” Danny says, breathing hard but not loosening his grip on Steve’s wrist, the knee at his back still pressed firm.

“That’s a lie,” he spits viciously, broken and in tears again. “Everyone lies. And I always, _always_ end up alone. Nobody wants to know the real me.” He bucks, hard as he can but he still can’t get free. He’s tired. So sick of all this…

“STOP IT! I’m not letting you go. And… That’s not true. Try me. Go ahead. Do your worst.”

“What do you want to hear? Huh? That I’m a freak who makes himself puke after eating more than Kamekona does in two days in one sitting and then jerks off after because it feels better than sex with any woman? That’s what you want to hear? You wanna hear about me knowing the calories contained in every single thing in this house? You want to hear how screwed up my head really is?”

“Why; is what I want to know. Why do you hurt yourself like this?”

“Because!”

“Tell me why.”

“NO!” he shouts and bucks and twists and tenses and tries everything he can but he can’t. Get. Free.

“I won’t hate you. No matter how hard you try and hurt me, I won’t hate you and I won’t leave you. I’m your friend, Steve, and I love you no matter what. I just don’t want to see you hurt yourself. Please. Please. Just tell me why.”

“Because, in my entire life it’s the… only thing that ever made me feel good, the only time I EVER FELT…. CARED FOR!” he explodes and the admission takes all the fight out of him. He lies on his kitchen floor, crying like a fucking pathetic baby and all Danny does is rub a hand up and down his back.

“It’s okay, babe. Just… tell me.”

He swallows and bites his lip. He’s already said too much. Might as well say it all.

“It’s the only thing that takes the pain away. It’s like… if I fill the hole inside with food it hurts less for a while and then… If I throw it up… it takes the pain with it. And… It feels… good after. It… Turns me on so… I… jerk off. I get to decide. It’s… control.”

There’s a long beat of silence. “Okay.”

“Okay? It’s all you’re gonna say?”

“What else am I gonna say? I can’t say I understand, because I don’t but you were honest. I can’t ask for more than that. And I’m not gonna run out the door. Now. If I let you go, are you gonna go and try to do something stupid again?”

He shakes his head, the urge passed. “No.”

“Okay.”

Danny lets him go and he sits up against the nearest cupboard, drawing his knees up and hiding his face in them, not daring to look at Danny or the destroyed kitchen around them.

“I gotta say… I thought it would be harder than that to make you admit to this.”

“You think this was easy?”

“Not… easy. I thought you’d try the fist to the face first. I didn’t think you’d go kamikaze, though. That… that scares me a little.”

“I’m such a head case.” He gives a watery chuckle.

“Not gonna argue with you there.”

“How did you know?”

“I told you. I saw things.”

“Other people saw the same things. Never figured it out.”

“I just know what this looks like.”

“Most people think it’s just girls.”

“I know better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Guy in my varsity baseball team. He, ah… Died.”

Steve nods. “I’m not… I’m… in control. I know how far I can go, stay on the safe side.” He has to say it, has to; he has to find some control, something to hold on to because this feels like drowning. The urge to end this now is still there, not overwhelming but there.

“Again, a functioning addict is still an addict, Steve.”

He sighs, swallows hard. “I know.”

“And I think… I think you let me see things because there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to go on like this anymore. You’re too good at secrets for this to be just… an accident. I’m a good detective but you’re trained. You’re a freakin’ ninja and we only get to see what you want us to see.”

He has nothing to say to that so he stays silent. The sun’s bright and high and they’re late for work.

“You should go. The others-”

“Know I was coming to talk to you. We’re not expected in today. ‘Sides, after the stunt you just tried to pull, you think I’m gonna leave you alone or let you near a firearm? Not happening babe. Nuh-uh.”

Steve swallows hard, his humiliation complete. “The others know?”

He doesn’t recognize the voice that comes out of his throat; thin, weak and scared.

“They saw the same things I did. Not as much but enough that Kono came to me. She hasn’t figured it out but she knows something’s wrong. She thinks you’re sick and hiding it from us.”

“Oh god,” he murmurs. “I’ll have to resign,” he says, defeated.

“No, babe, you don’t have to, but you have to get better. If this were one of them, with a drug or alcohol problem, how would you see this? What would you think about any of us if the situation was reversed?”

He thinks for a beat but the answer’s obvious and he knows it. “Doesn’t matter who or what. O’hana.”

“And the same goes for you. Now, the only thing we need to figure out is how to get you better. Do you want to get better, Steve? Tell me, honestly. Do you?”

The question hangs in the air between them, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the room.

Does he? Want to? Can he? Can he give up the only thing that’s made him feel like he’s not a piece of paper stuck in a tornado, helpless and at the mercy of a monster intent on destroying him, like fate is somehow out there to make his life hell?

“I don’t know if… Fuck.”

“Don’t know what?”

“If I can.”

“But do you _want_ to?”

He draws in a long shaky breath and nods, slow and unsure. “Yeah. I think… Yeah. I do.”

Silence falls once more but he knows it never really lasts with Danny.

“You say it’s about control,” he says, tone maybe careful, maybe thinking, half-like not trying to scare a skittish colt.

“Yeah.”

“So take it back.”

He frowns, brows creasing in confusion. “What?”

“Take control back. This, this _thing_ ’s been controlling you for, what, years now. So kick its ass and control _it_ instead of _it_ controlling _you.”_

He nods slowly and thinks about that, time stretching, empty of words. Eventually, he shakes his head and stands.

“Where are you going?”

He resists the urge to tell Danny off because after what he tried to do, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on with the outrage. Not after admitting to… all of this, and Danny still being there. “Nowhere. I just… Danny…” he sighs. “I need… space. To think.”

Danny gets to his feet and faces him. “You want me to go.”

It’s not a question. He nods.

“After you trying to off yourself not twenty minutes ago, you want me to leave.”

“Yes. You, uh, gave me a lot to think about. I need time to think this through, Danny. I need to figure this… thing out.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look. You have my word. I won’t try to harm myself in any way. And if I feel like… doing something stupid, I’ll call you.”

“Not good enough. I’m sorry. I trust you, but you’re not your normal self at the moment. Go out on the beach, go upstairs on the deck, go sit on the lanai, I’ll leave you to think. I’m not leaving this house. Not right now. Not when my friend’s so vulnerable.”

Steve sighs and rubs his forehead. He’s so, so tired all of a sudden. All he wants to do is sleep. His head aches, a deep pounding that makes the late morning light seem much too bright. He lets his shoulders slump and turns, facing away from Danny. He walks out of the kitchen and heads out the back, making it all the way to the chair on the beach, the one he sat in last night.

There are no traces left, the mess washed away by the ocean. He slowly sinks into the chair elbows on his knees, eyes on the sand. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, feeling the gnawing emptiness inside.

He bites his lip and swallows. The urge to give in, to fill it up, is overwhelming. The urge to run until he collapses or swim until he drowns, is equally strong. So he just sits there, torn.

Giving up sounds so appealing, so easy, so… painless. And he’s so tired of the pain…

He’s never been a quitter, never gave up before but he’s never had to fight himself, either, doesn’t know if he’s ready to face the demons and the black hole inside.

He blinks and he’s suddenly aware of a presence beside him.

“You should get out of the sun, babe,” Danny says, pushing a cold bottle of water to his elbow.

He realizes he’s completely parched and grabs the bottle, chugging it in one single gulp.

“Thanks,” he pants, feeling the tightness of a sunburn on his face and arms.

“C’mon. Inside. You’re giving yourself heatstroke.”

“Yeah,” he says. He sounds brittle, fragile. He follows Danny inside and goes straight to the fridge, gulping down another bottle of water. And suddenly, the only thing he can feel is a weary, bone-gnawing anger. At himself, at Danny, at the whole entire world.

His head aches ferociously and he’s tired. All he wants to do is sleep. He stands in front of the fridge, his mind on the bottle of Jack in the cabinet behind his desk, how he wants to crawl inside it, to forget all of this. All he wants is to not think, to not have to face what Danny shoved under his nose. He feels a dog, like a puppy whose nose has been shoved to his mess, or in his case, into his huge fucking pile of puke.

“Babe, you all right?”

“No.”

“What can I do?”

“You’ve done enough,” he snaps angrily. “I have a headache,” he mutters, heading into the bathroom. He digs out some ibuprofen and aloe, swallows the first and rubs his face and arm with the second.

“I’m going to lie down,” he growls, and heads upstairs. He slams his bedroom door shut and throws himself on the bed, face first into his pillow.

He just gives up. Gives in to the anger. He screams into the fabric, fists tightening and beating on the mattress, pulling at the covers, tearing at the sheets.

He loses himself to it, until he’s left a sweating, shaking, exhausted mess, tears and snot running down his face.

Spent, he lets himself collapse onto the bed. Sleep swallows him whole and for once, he doesn’t dream.

 

* * *

 

It’s dark when he wakes up and his internal clock tells him it’s the middle of the night.

He checks his watch and isn’t surprised it’s around 2 AM. He sits up on the side of the bed and rubs his face, wincing at the sunburn pulling at his cheeks and forehead.

He strips and heads to the shower, cleaning off the sweat and aloe lotion. He dresses, grabs his badge, his gun and his cell before heading downstairs. He’s not surprised to find Danny asleep on the couch.

He grabs a piece of paper and scribbles a note.

_Danno,_

_Gone to the office. I have some research to do. I give you my word, I will not harm myself. I’m… looking for a solution._

_I’m sorry about earlier._

_Thank you for_

He pauses, not sure what he wants to write there.

_Thank you for doing the hard right thing. Now, it’s my turn._

_Steve_

 

* * *

 

Danny isn’t exactly surprised to find Steve’s office empty when he walks in, not after finding that note on Steve’s coffee table.

He is surprised by the large envelope on his desk.

Danno is written in bold letters on the front and Steve’s handwriting is not even hard to recognize.

He rips the seal open and two smaller letter-sized enveloppes fall to his desk. One has the number 1 underlined on the front so he starts with that one.

_Dear Danno,_

_I gave a lot of thought to what you said and the definite answer is yes, I do want to get better. So, I’m taking steps to make that happen. I found a facility in Osaka that is willing to take me in, no questions asked. I’m already on my way._

_There’s one thing I will ask of you._

_Don’t tell anyone else. Please. I swear to you, I’m putting an end to this but I’m asking you to keep my secret. Our Ohana, my job, and my career in the Navy are all I have, and this could make me lose all of it._

_I know you understand, and I know you’ll always have my back, and for that, I’m grateful._

_I’ve asked the Governor for a month’s personal leave. He believes I’m going to Japan to hunt down Wo Fat. That’s what my second letter, my cover, says._

_I’ll be back as soon as I can._

_Again, thanks Danny, for being there for me._

 

He sighs and shoves the first letter into its envelope. He figures it’s as much as he could expect from Steve and he can’t begrudge him the secrecy. He understands. He knows just how much Steve has riding on this whole thing and yeah, he hates the lies, but he hates what the team, the governor and the Navy finding out means for Steve even more.

He’s barely read the “cover” letter before Kamekona shows up with his stolen truck story.

* * *

 

It’s just over a month when his phone rings with an unknown number and Steve’s voice on the end. He sounds good. He’s got Wo Fat.

Danny’s reeling but he can’t wait for that plane to land.

Of course, the whole thing turns into a production but in the end, once Wo Fat is in cuffs and stuffed in a cruiser, he gets to get his hands on Steve.

There are bruises all over his face but there’s no hiding the warm glow of his skin, the fullness of his cheeks and the light in his eyes. He’s put on weight and he’s back to solid muscles and not all sinew and bones.

Danny smiles big as Steve and when their eyes meet, he gives Steve a knowing nod.

They’ll have to talk but knowing Steve, he’s beat his demon into the ground and all that’s left now is smooth sailing.

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. Done. So, how was it? The ending is a bit rushed but after a year, I wanted to get this done...


End file.
